


Bitter.

by spiritalbarn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 420 words of pain, Levi drinks tea and remembers his buddies, and I want to die, first work on here and it'S PAIN., he's also a lil bitter about letting himself reminisce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6465997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritalbarn/pseuds/spiritalbarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi enjoys a cup of tea and is bombarded by memories, some good, some painful, of his friends. </p>
<p>(Basically it's just gratuitous angst and I hate myself.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter.

He can’t recall how long he’s been staring at his teacup.

The set is plain, all white porcelain with an even simpler design – it isn’t much to look at, Levi muses, but he supposes not much is anymore. Though it lacks luster, it serves its purpose. He can sip as he pleases, safe from tea sloshing as gravity abuses it; it does not stain his paperwork, nor his cravat. He can give it at least that much.

A finger, calloused while his nails remain otherwise immaculate, traces the rim carefully, thoughtfully, absently. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice shoves itself out of the neatly, safely locked away confines of his memeories where he never meant to revisit – it’s clear as day, as if Farlan stands beside him in this very moment and chides him for his odd manners. He might have even plucked the cup from its matching saucer, might have paraded around his office with his nose in the air and shoulders squared. Isabel would laugh, join in, tug absently at her collar as if to mimic Levi’s own habit at the cravat that even now seems fixed too tightly around his throat (he vaguely registers his own uncomfortable swallow and the hot wetness that sting at the corner of his eyes).

It isn’t often he allows himself to reminisce. Reminiscence takes time; time wasted is time lost, time lost increases the likeliness of failure, and the captain does not plan on becoming a dead man anytime soon, though the sentiment still settles low at the forefront of his mind, like a cat circling, begging for attention. He’ll blink slowly, once, twice, _three times_ ; each, a different expression, a different moment, their faces flashing briefly behind his tired lids, only to disappear in the light that pours in from the east-facing window just above his desk.

The first two are full of warm remembrance, like sinking into a hot bath after a day with trainees, his muscles aching and laden with exhaustion. They wrap around him like a welcomed embrace, one he might sigh and burrow further into. The last is a shock to his system: his friends laying in pieces, dismembered and bloody, while panic bubbles in his throat like the bile that accompanies it – the titan’s foul stench burns his nostrils and makes his stomach churn, and the gasp that leaves him rattles in the silence.

His lips purse and he tastes the saltiness that slipped down his cheek undetected, wet against the back of the hand drawn harshly over his eyes. His own sniffle is too loud in the too quiet room. It's jarring.

However long it’s been, Levi ponders bitterly, its ample duration has given his tea enough time to turn cold. With an impatient suck of his teeth, he shoves the saucer away.

**Author's Note:**

> Heck. That's all I have to say.


End file.
